


Tickled Pink

by MadamRed



Series: YOI Rare Pair Week - 2021 [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Future, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Nervousness, Post-Canon, So many kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28613937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRed/pseuds/MadamRed
Summary: "It’s their six-month anniversary. Phichit should be excited. And he is! It’s just that … What do you get for your boyfriend of six months? It’s not supposed to be grand, but it shouldn’t be small either. He obviously bought Seung-gil something but, what if the gift isn't good enough?"
Relationships: Phichit Chulanont/Lee Seung Gil
Series: YOI Rare Pair Week - 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091720
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27
Collections: YOI Rare Pair Week 2021





	Tickled Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: **Gifts** / **Surprise**
> 
> Once again, this is my first time writing Seungchuchu so I really hope Seung-gil's personality is not too OOC.
> 
> Big thank you to @[schmesa](https://schmesa.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for allowing me to use [their gorgeous art](https://schmesa.tumblr.com/post/170599515244/seungchuchu-is-the-only-non-canon-otp-for-me) as inspiration for this story. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

It’s their six-month anniversary. Phichit should be excited. And he is! It’s just that … What do you get for your boyfriend of six months? It’s not supposed to be grand, but it shouldn’t be small either. He obviously bought Seung-gil something but, what if the gift isn't good enough?

The question haunts Phichit, even as he takes his seat on the plane that will take him from Bangkok to Seoul. The butterflies swarming his stomach at the prospect of spending some quality time with Seung-gil during the off season turn into knots whenever he thinks of the gifts that are currently in his carry-on—call him paranoid, but if his luggage gets lost, he wants to make sure he at least has the presents along with a few essentials, thank you very much.

The plane taxis and takes off at some point, but Phichit is barely aware of it, still torn between Present A and Present B. The first one was more of an impulse buy. He was going through his Instagram stories one night, his thumb pressing the right side of his phone’s screen in quick succession in a poor attempt to empty his mind and finally fall asleep, when his brain registered an ad he ignored about three swipes earlier. Phichit backtracked and when he saw the adorable Husky slippers and black T-shirt with the phrase _‘I prefer Siberian Huskies over people’_ , he purchased them without giving it another thought and passed out shortly after with a smile on his face.

The second one … well, that’s the one he is worried about. Because, sure, Present A might be considered generic as anyone who looks at Seung-gil scarce updates on social media will gather that a dog-themed gift would be appropriate. But Present B is nothing of the sort. The carefully bubbled-wrapped frame of a black and white drawing of himself and Seung-gil he commissioned from _Georgi Popovich_ —Phichit was shocked when Yuuri told him about the Russian’s new-found passion for art after retiring—made his carry-on feel heavy when he hoisted it into the overhead compartment.

Phichit releases a breath as he taps the music app on his phone and lets the soft melodies of pianos and violins wash over him to see if they will help calm his frazzled nerves. He is aware he’s overthinking this. Yuuri made it pretty clear when Phichit called him weeks ago because Google was being the most unhelpful search engine in existence. His desperation was running so deep, he had reached page 3 of list after useless list of _‘romantic gifts to give your significant other’_.

Sleep claims him eventually, and Phichit jolts awake when there’s a bit of turbulence, accidentally hitting the arm of the woman sitting next to him. He gives her a sheepish smile and whispers his apology, but she ignores him and makes herself as comfortable as possible against the headrest of her seat, facing the opposite direction. Phichit rolls his eyes and looks out of the window; the colours of the sky suggesting that dusk is well on its way. When he checks the remaining flight time on the screen in front of him, he confirms his suspicions. Only half an hour to go.

The impromptu nap helped to pass the time, but now the excited butterflies and nervous knots from earlier are fighting each other and holding his insides in a vicious grip. Phichit breathes through his nose as the plane lands smoothly. He springs up from his seat the second he’s able to but has to reach deep within himself to gather every last bit of patience he has as he waits for the woman next to him slowly grab her bag, effectively blocking his path and everyone else’s, for that matter.

When she finally moves away, Phichit takes his carry-on and returns to his seat, while the cabin empties. He opens the zipper and a relieved sigh escapes his lips; the gifts are intact. With a calmer heart, Phichit stands again, makes sure he hasn’t forgotten anything and braces himself for the Seoul heat which awaits him outside as he finally disembarks.

The queue is _long_ at customs, so the Thai quickly sends a message to his boyfriend, alerting him of the inevitable waiting time. Phichit snickers when he sees the response—an adorable gif of Hamtaro pressing his squishy, smiling face against a glass—and pockets his phone before the staff walking around sees him. Anyone who has ever come across, and has been forced to interact with, Seung-gil knows about the Korean’s general aversion to words and social interactions, so Phichit is sure he’s one of the very, very few people who actually knows about Seung-gil’s sarcastic sense of humour and apparent love for reaction stickers and gifs.

The soft smile that settles comfortably on Phichit’s face never disappears, not even after the short interrogation from the customs officer, who barely looks at him and wishes him a nice stay in one of the most dull voices he’s ever heard. Phichit bids him goodbye in his choppy Korean and makes his way to baggage claim. Luckily, his lonesome suitcase is already waiting for him as the staff takes the remaining luggage out of the belt to make room for the next couple of flights that are surely going to land soon.

Thanks to his hectic career, navigating through airports has become second nature by now, but Phichit still double checks he is following the signs correctly and that he is exiting through the door Seung-gil promised to be waiting by. He steps out, looks around and soon he is typing another message to ask where his boyfriend is, when someone taps his right shoulder impatiently. Phichit turns, an apology ready on the tip of his tongue thinking he was blocking the way, when he’s met with his favourite shade of gray.

Seung-gil is standing there, wearing a black T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, and looking as stoically gorgeous as usual. Phichit gapes for a second, his heart jumping in his chest at the sight. He sometimes can’t believe he gets to call this man his partner.

Taking a moment to compose himself and reel in his imperious need to hug and pepper his boyfriend’s entire face with kisses, Phichit smiles and pockets his phone. Seung-gil takes the action as an invitation to finally speak. “Welcome to Seoul,” he says in Korean.

“Thank you,” Phichit replies in the same language. His level is still very basic, but he hopes his practice shows.

The corners of Seung-gil’s mouth quirk up minutely. The average observer wouldn’t even notice the slight change, but Phichit is anything but. He is not super well-versed in the nuances Seung-gil is capable of with just a few changes in his expression yet, but Phichit has been studying for a while now—even before they officially started dating.

Without saying another word, Seung-gil gently pries Phichit’s hand from the handle of his suitcase and starts walking, presumably to where he parked his car. It takes a second for Phichit to react but, when he does, he has to half run to catch up to him.

Despite it being early evening, the airport is busy enough that they have to manoeuvre around people in a rush as well as a multitude of cars and vans. By the time they make it to Seung-gil’s sleek black car and put the luggage in the trunk, the sky is much darker.

Phichit stretches lazily in the passenger seat and, out of the corner of his eye, he notices his boyfriend’s gaze stuck on the strip of skin now visible due to his shirt riding up. “Eyes are up here,” Phichit says in English this time, much more comfortable in his second language.

Seung-gil’s cheeks flush red, and he clears his throat before fastening his seat belt and starting the car. Phichit grins but doesn’t say anything else as he adjusts his shirt; the click of his own seat belt, getting drowned out by the rev of the engine.

It’s not until they finally leave the airport’s parking lot and are driving down the highway that Seung-gil speaks up. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” Phichit’s stomach chimes in with a growl then, seemingly in agreement. He now realises his nap on the plane deprived him of his complimentary meal. As much as those suck most of the time, it would have at least tied him over until dinner.

Seung-gil nods. “Salmon sounds good?”

Phichit is not a picky eater so he shrugs. “Sure, where do you wanna go?”

“For what?”

Phichit frowns. “For dinner? Weren’t we just talking about that?”

“We were.” Seung-gil’s eyes stay focused on the road ahead as they exit the highway; the tall buildings Phichit saw in the distance now looming all around them. “I figured you would be tired so I stocked up on groceries.” There’s a pause, a glance in Phichit’s direction, and then Seung-gil's handsome features are marred by a furrowed brow. Phichit has learnt not to interrupt his boyfriend when he’s deep in thought. It just takes him a bit of time to find the right words. His patience is rewarded a minute later as they enter an underground garage. “Do you want to go out instead? Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” The frown remains there, as Seung-gil seems to be hesitating about whether he should even remove the key from the ignition or not.

“No, no! You assumed correctly.” Phichit is quick to undo his seat belt and sits sideways, facing his boyfriend but careful not to stain the expensive leather of the seat with his dirty sneakers. He extends one arm to rest a reassuring hand on Seung-gil’s knee and squeezes. “I would love to try your food, actually.”

Seung-gil snorts—or rather makes his own version of a snort, meaning that he exhales the tiniest bit of air through his nose—and shakes his head. “Who said I was going to be cooking?” His tone doesn’t change, no special inflection is given to any words in particular, but there is that tiny, playful smirk again. This time, however, it lasts longer—probably because they’re alone.

Phichit plays along and gasps, removing his hand and cradling it against his chest as if he were burned. “Well, excuse _me_ for thinking that my boyfriend would cook dinner for me, a _guest_.”

“Exactly.” Seung-gil unfastens his seat belt after grabbing the key and popping the trunk open from inside the car. He leans forwards, invading the Thai’s space and pecks him on the lips. The kiss is chaste and over too soon for Phichit’s liking, making him sigh.

A moment later, Seung-gil takes the suitcase and locks the car once Phichit climbs out of the vehicle and grabs his (precious) carry-on. They move to the lifts at the back, and once they are in the lobby of the building, Phichit finally understands just how wealthy the Lee family actually is. There are security cameras as well as staff outside _and_ inside the entrance doors, and a receptionist at the front desk. To Phichit, it feels like he has stepped into the office of an important company instead of an apartment building.

Still in awe, he’s surprised when Seung-gil gestures towards him as he speaks in rapid Korean to the receptionist, who nods and offers a smile to Phichit. He mirrors the expression and receives a card in exchange. Thanking the man, the two of them move to the lifts again.

Once inside, Seung-gil explains, “I told them you were coming and asked them to make that in advance. It’s a temporary visitor card so that security can identify you if they see you around the building by yourself. Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t,” Phichit promises and puts it in one of the pockets of his phone case, where he has his credit cards. “Thank you.” Seung-gil nods. His boyfriend knows Phichit would protect his phone with his own life if he had to, so it _is_ technically the safest place for him to keep the card.

When they arrive at the fourteenth floor, Seung-gil leads Phichit to the far right and stops in front of a door with the letter _‘A’_ in a shiny, silvery colour. They stop, and the Korean unlocks the door, putting a hand on Phichit’s chest to prevent him from moving forwards. Phichit quirks an eyebrow and opens his mouth to ask what is going on when the quick yet distinct _click-click-click_ of paws against wooden floors reaches his ears.

His boyfriend pushes the door and steps in, only to be almost tackled by a giant gray and white shadow that Phichit identifies as Seung-gil’s Siberian Husky.

“Okay, okay,” the man says and pushes the dog down until she’s standing on her own legs. “Snow, this is Phichit. Phichit, this is Snow.” Snow barks once in greeting and sits down, effectively blocking the entrance to the apartment, like a guardian whose approval he has to gain to continue on his quest.

“Hi Snow,” Phichit crouches in front of her and receives a lick when he’s close enough to her face. He laughs and pets her, which makes her wag her tail back and forth. Looking up as he scratches Snow behind the ears, he finds Seung-gil leaning against the doorframe, a fond expression adorning his features. Phichit beams up at him, but the spell is soon broken by the dog, who moves to stand in front of her owner and howls this time.

“Yeah, yeah, you want food and pets,” Seung-gil says dismissively and the three of them finally make it past the threshold.

Unsurprisingly, the inside of the apartment is modern and as expensive-looking as the rest of the building. The entrance hallway is somewhat narrow but well-illuminated with a few abstract pictures here and there. There’s a door to the right, which Phichit presumes is a coat closet, and a small shoe rack on the left. Seung-gil takes two pairs of slippers out of it, and they both leave their shoes by the door.

Snow is already waiting by her food bowl when they walk in and leave Phichit’s luggage in the main living area—an open floor plan that includes a spacious kitchen with plenty of appliances and an island with two barstools, which helps divide the space, a small dining table in the middle and, finally, a living room with an L-shaped couch and a giant TV hanging on the right wall. Phichit is immediately drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows that serve as the backdrop for the entire area and stares at the bustling cityscape below while Seung-gil takes care of his pet’s food.

“Wanna shower while I start on dinner?” Seung-gil’s voice is soft as he approaches Phichit and hugs him from behind.

“Mmm.” Phichit takes a moment to enjoy the embrace as Seung-gil drops a few kisses around the juncture between his neck and left shoulder. “That’s not very helpful.” Phichit raises one of his arms and buries his hand on Seung-gil’s hair, encouraging him to continue. His tone is conversational, but he knows they could very easily get carried away—the smirk against his skin confirms it.

Seung-gil’s lips tickle him as he says, “Should I stop then?” Phichit is already shaking his head and turns around to kiss his boyfriend silly, when his stomach makes an appearance again. He ends up burying his face in Seung-gil’s neck while the other laughs. “Dinner first, I guess.”

Phichit is led to the bedroom, and Seung-gil goes back to the kitchen to start on dinner. Alone now, he grabs the presents from his carry-on and buries them below the many clothes he brought in his suitcase. He peeks around the open door to make sure his boyfriend saw nothing suspicious and then takes a change of clothes and his toiletries to finally disappear into the bathroom, where he finds that Seung-gil has already left a few towels prepared for him.

Fifteen minutes later, Phichit exits the shower, feeling much more relaxed. He gets momentarily distracted by his phone but soon the sizzling and subsequent smell of grilled fish that drifts through the apartment calls to him. He drags his feet to the kitchen and smiles when his boyfriend lifts his gaze from the pan. “Want to take care of the rice? The bowls are over there.”

Phichit does as he’s told and soon enough, they are sitting at the dining table, a random show on TV to serve as filler while they devour their food—steaming bowls of rice, grilled salmon and veggies as well as a few side dishes. An expectant Snow is drooling next to them, despite having already eaten, but when Seung-gil mutters something in Korean Phichit doesn’t understand, the dog moves away and lies on the couch with a whine.

“You, monster!” Phichit says, no real judgement in his voice. “Did you see her face? You could’ve at least given her a small piece of salmon.”

Seung-gil swallows a mouthful of rice before answering. “She’s insatiable. Don’t be fooled by her puppy eyes.”

Phichit spares Snow a glance and shrugs as if to tell her _‘I tried’_ when they make eye contact, prompting another whine. He laughs. Seung-gil warnings about Siberian Huskies’ tendencies to ‘talk’ a lot seem to be true.

By the time they finish cleaning everything, and Seung-gil takes Snow out for a walk, it’s late, and the two of them all but pass out the second their heads hit the pillow.

* * *

The sun shining through the window warms Phichit’s face enough to make him open one eye. He looks around, confused for a moment before his brain catches up, and he remembers where he is. He stretches and sits up. There’s no sign of either Seung-gil or Snow.

Phichit gets up, yawning as he moves languishly, and goes to the bathroom. When he’s done splashing cold water on his face and feels like his brain is a bit more coherent, he opens the door of the bedroom and is almost tackled by Snow in the same fashion Seung-gil was the night before when they arrived. Thankfully, his boyfriend’s quick reflexes save him while Snow whines against Seung-gil’s arms.

“Good morning, Snow!” Phichit’s cheery voice prompts the dog to start wagging her tail happily, hitting Seung-gil on the side each time. Phichit laughs and kneels in front of them to pet Snow and kiss his boyfriend. “Good morning to you, too,” he says against Seung-gil’s lips, who reluctantly accepts the kiss and even _tsks_ , clearly unhappy about being demoted to second place.

“Morning.” Both of them straighten up, and Phichit takes the opportunity to properly greet his boyfriend. When they separate, Seung-gil speaks again, his lips touching Phichit’s as he does so. “I was about to bring you breakfast.”

“Aww, thank you! How long have you been awake?”

Seung-gil glances at the clock in the kitchen behind them. “About an hour and a half. Snow needed to be walked.” Phichit hums as they relocate to the island counters, where two trays with rice bowls, soup, omelettes, fruit and tea await them.

They take their seats, and Seung-gil opens his mouth to say something, when Phichit gasps and runs back to the room. He returns just as quickly, cell phone in hand and starts taking at least a dozen pictures of the trays.

“What are you doing? It’s just food,” Seung-gil says, a hint of confusion in his voice, and picks up his chopsticks, rolling his eyes at Phichit’s playful slap to his upper arm.

“Babe!” The nickname slips out, and Phichit has to bite hard on his lip in order not to laugh at Seung-gil’s glare. The Thai clears his throat and tries again. “It’s not _‘just food’!_ It’s our six-month anniversary breakfast! I _have to_ take pictures. How else am I gonna fill up the album for our wedding that will showcase the journey of our relationship?” Seung-gil snorts and almost chokes on his soup. This time, though, Phichit can’t stop the giggles coming out of his mouth. “Too much, too soon?”

Another glare. “Eat up. It’s gonna get cold.” Phichit kisses Seung-gil’s cheek and receives a small smile in return. Silence envelopes them, only broken by Snow’s little whines until, “By the way.” Phichit turns his head as he finishes his rice. “Don’t ever call me _‘babe’_ again.” The pleading look brings about another fit of laughter.

“What about _‘sweetheart’_ ? _‘Darling’_ ? _‘Love’_?” Each new term of endearment is received with either a glare or an eye roll. “Come on! Just one?” Seung-gil think about it for no more than ten seconds and ends up shaking his head. “Fine, I’ll call Chris and ask for a few possible ones in French—”

“Darling!” Seung-gil grabs Phichit’s hand, the one that was about to reach for the phone. “Darling is _fine_ , really.”

“Mmm.” Phichit is savouring the moment. “You sure? Don’t want to pressure you or anything.” Seung-gil’s deadpan expression is priceless, but despite the joke, the sentiment is true. “No, seriously. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

His boyfriend regards him for a moment, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Phichit’s hand. After a minute or so, he finally nods, and Phichit leans forwards to plant an obnoxiously loud kiss on his lips. “Thank you!” He receives another small smile, and they return to their unfinished breakfast. “Oh, you can call me whatever you want, too.”

“Anything, huh?” There’s that gleam in his eyes again. Oh, no. “Okay, I’ll call you … _polpetto_.”

Phichit frowns. “Wait, that doesn’t sound English or Korean.”

“Nope,” Seung-gil says and gets up to rinse their plates and bowls before putting them in the dishwasher. He doesn’t add anything else but he does smirk, which doesn’t bode well. Phichit resorts to his trusty friend, Google—they have made up since the gift emergency from a few weeks ago—and a quick search leaves him more confused. Surely, it’s a mistake, right?

“Darling,” he calls, trying to sound extra sweet. “Did you just call me _‘meatball’_ by any chance?”

“Maybe,” Seung-gil replies, his tone as flat as always, and Phichit sighs. “You’re not the only one with international friends, you know?”

“A- _ha!_ So you do speak with Sara then!”

“Actually, Michele.”

“You’re kidding me?”

Seung-gil shakes his head. “I spent two days in Italy a few months ago, for that sponsor event I told you about?” Phichit nods. “He’s not that bad … after I told him I wasn’t interested in his sister about four times. He taught me quite a few phrases to get around.”

“Woah, colour me surprised.” Phichit never thought Seung-gil or Michele capable of an amicable conversation, considering Michele’s usual reactions to any males that come near Sara. “Okay, fine. Maybe agreeing to anything was a bad call.” He puts up his hands as if he were surrendering, and Seung-gil does his little snort-exhale before closing the door of the dishwasher. It's fine. He doesn't care about a silly nickname. He knows his boyfriend isn’t the overly-affectionate type.

Seung-gil glances at the clock once more. “We should be leaving in around 15 minutes if we want to make it on time.”

“Still not telling me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

“But then, how do I know what to wear, _darling_?”

Seung-gil levels him with a look. “As if that has ever stopped you before, sweetheart.” The tone of the sentence contrasts sharply with the term of endearment, but Phichit sees how Seung-gil’s expression softens at the last word.

Phichit walks around the island and kisses the other man's cheek again. “Mm, I could definitely get used to that.”

“Good,” Seung-gil agrees and returns the gesture. “Now, off you go.”

They change and refill Snow’s bowls of food and water before leaving for the morning.

“Are we gonna be out all day?” Phichit asks as they’re riding the lift down to the garage.

“Not entirely. We’re coming back for lunch and to walk Snow, and then we’re off again.”

“You have the whole day planned?”

“Yes.” Seung-gil marches out of the lift without another word, leaving a huffing Phichit behind.

This man … Phichit shakes his head. Most people think Seung-gil is a cold-hearted, grumpy, straightforward individual who frowns at everything and whose only emotion is indifference. But Phichit has learned that, underneath the monotonous voice and glares, there’s a plethora of emotions ready to be unearthed. Seung-gil is passionate and driven. He’s kind, observant, analytical and as troubled as the rest of the world. He simply doesn’t show his every feeling he has like Phichit, who may very well be described as an open book, especially on the ice.

A hand on his knee brings him back to the car they’re in, to the cold air from the AC, and to the honks of the busy city.

Phichit puts his hand on top of Seung-gil’s and squeezes before his boyfriend returns his attention to the road, and his hand, to the gear stick. “Something on your mind?”

“You.” Phichit’s honest answer earns him a raised eyebrow and a hum. The comfortable silence settles between them again, and Phichit takes notice of the smaller roads they’re driving down now. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”

“We’re almost there.” Seung-gil checks his phone while they wait at a traffic light. “Five more minutes.”

True to his word, they are soon parking outside a narrow building at a corner with a red sign that reads _‘Trick Eye Museum’_. The area seems to be filled with small shops as well as quite a few coffee houses and places to eat.

“A museum?” Phichit asks the moment they get out of the car. Seung-gil nods and gives him a small smile as he comes around the vehicle and takes Phichit by the hand.

They approach the glass doors, and Phichit’s curiosity and confusion only grow at the signs depicting the attractions found inside: Trick Eye, Ice and Love. Inside, they are instructed to download an app, and when Phichit opens it, he has to restrain himself from squealing. He was going to spend the next few hours exploring this augmented reality museum and taking half a million photos.

As they walk in, Seung-gil squeezes his hand before whispering in his ear, “Good enough for the wedding album?”

“Oh, definitely,” Phichit is quick to agree, squeezing back.

The next two hours are spent going from set to set. Phichit takes pictures in every single one: he poses as a merman, ‘drinks’ milk from one painting, pretends to be blowing up the Mona Lisa’s face with an air pump, rides the waves standing on the back of a few sharks … he even convinces Seung-gil to participate in a few shots that look a lot more convincing with two people instead of one.

When they make it to the Ice Museum inside, Phichit drapes himself on top of couches, beds, armchairs. He sits down inside igloos and slides down slippery, icy slopes as Seung-gil acts as Phichit’s personal photographer.

By the time they get into the car, it’s already afternoon, and Phichit can’t stop looking through all the pictures they took, laughing quietly at his boyfriend's signature deadpan expression in each and every one.

“Did you have fun?” comes the question from the driver’s seat.

The answer should be obvious. Phichit turns to tell Seung-gil that but notices his boyfriend gripping the steering wheel a little bit too tightly. This man … Seriously. “It was perfect.” The Thai reaches across and gently combs his fingers through Seung-gil’s hair. The effect is almost instant. The hand on the steering wheel relaxes, as well as the line of his shoulders, which makes Phichit smile triumphantly.

When they return after buying some lunch on the way, the attack is expected and they spend some time petting—Seung-gil—and cooing at Snow—Phichit. The two of them, then, sneak a few bites of chicken, feeling slightly guilty for leaving the dog alone for so many hours, and pretend not to notice that the other is doing the same.

The background noise provided by the TV fills in any stretches of silence, but Phichit soon finds a new topic of conversation, either about something they saw inside the museum or random thoughts about their wedding theme. Seung-gil nods along and even chimes in with comments of his own, indulging Phichit's crazy schemes, and the Thai sees how his boyfriend’s expression seems much softer than in the morning. His smiles come more easily, too.

* * *

By 3 o’clock in the afternoon, Phichit is sprawled in a luxurious cinema seat. There’s no armrest between the two chairs and, if reclined, the combined seats look more like a small bed. The ambiance of the place is different from any other cinema Phichit has been to, too. There are short panels of wood at the back and sides of each pair of chairs, which give a little privacy, as well as tables for people to leave their glasses of wine on. He takes a few selfies— _he has to!_ —as he waits for Seung-gil to return from the food counter with their order of snacks and drinks.

The overall experience, including the fancy dinner they share afterwards in the same place, is delightful. Phichit can’t stop smiling throughout the entire time and is both tired but satisfied when they exit the place, Seung-gil’s arm wrapped around his waist despite the heat outside.

“So,” he says, elongating the _‘o’ ._ “Where to now, Mr Secretive?”

That earns him a smirk. “Back home to walk Snow.”

Phichit nods. The idea of going back ‘home’ together—wherever that might be—fills him with a kind of warmth he’s not too sure he’s ready to think about yet, and so he pushes it to the back of his mind for now.

Taking full advantage of Snow’s walk time, Phichit dashes into the bedroom the moment the front door closes and wraps the gifts he bought. He’s still nervous about Present B but … He shakes his head and leaves the slippers and T-shirt on the couch in the living room after hiding the framed portrait behind one of the cushions. He sits in that particular spot, his body covering the slight gap, and scrolls through his many social media apps while he waits.

The key in the lock startles Phichit, and he sits upright. _This is it._ Snow runs inside, happy to receive some pets before going over to the kitchen to have some water. Seung-gil’s pace is slower. He fills Snow’s food bowl, goes over to the bedroom and then comes over, a wrapped gift in hand, to sit next to Phichit after kissing him on the forehead.

Phichit smiles at him and looks down at the time on his phone; 7:21. Two minutes until their _official_ six-month anniversary. He’s still amazed. “Did you really plan everything to work out this way?”

“Maybe,” is all the answer he gets.

Phichit shakes his head with a smile, and looks out of the window behind the couch. The oranges and pinks of the sunset blend together and bathe the city below as it slowly transitions into night. The view is breathtaking. “Gorgeous,” he whispers.

“Thank you.” Phichit snorts and looks back at Seung-gil, whose hand is outstretched. Phichit takes it, their fingers fitting perfectly as always. “Happy six-month anniversary, sweetheart.”

Phichit closes the gap between them, bringing their mouths together in a searing kiss. “Happy six-month anniversary, darling.”

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Another kiss, this time initiated by Seung-gil.

“I told you already. It was perfect.” One more kiss, just to make sure Phichit’s message gets across. Seung-gil hums, eyes still closed; Phichit can’t resist and rubs their noses together. When Seung-gil’s gaze focuses on him again and smiles openly at him, Phichit swears his heart skips a beat. He has to squeeze his boyfriend’s hand not to spill the words threatening to escape his lips.

Seung-gil lets go and puts the gift in his hands. “We said we shouldn’t go overboard, so I hope this is okay.” His eyebrows are pinched together.

“Stop that,” Phichit says softly and smooths out the frown with his thumb. He tears the paper and there’s a thin, velvety box underneath. He opens it slowly and gasps; inside sits a silver necklace, its pendant featuring a hamster running around a ‘wheel’, represented with a circle. It’s delicate in its simplicity and yet so very Phichit, he feels his eyes sting a little as he touches the piece with his fingers. “Would you put it on me?” he asks, his voice a bit tight.

Wordlessly, Seung-gil takes the box from him and lifts the chain. Phichit leans forwards so that his boyfriend can fasten the necklace more easily and, even under the low, artificial lights of the living room, the pendant shines against the darker colour of his shirt.

He lifts his gaze to Seung-gil’s. “It’s beautiful, thank you.” But the subsequent sniffle makes him look down, unable to hold the eye contact for a second. It’s silly, something that could be considered a small gesture overwhelming him in such a way. It was probably the thoughtfulness that clearly went into planning the entire day that’s weighing on him right now. Lost in his own mind, he’s surprised when gentle fingers grasp his chin and force him to meet his boyfriend’s stoic yet patient expression.

Seung-gil sits closer to him and starts peppering Phichit’s face with feather-light kisses: on his forehead, his nose, one on each cheek, before he finally reaches his mouth. First it’s only their lips that move, slowly, savouring the moment. The tenderness stirs something inside Phichit, and then he’s coaxing Seung-Gil’s mouth open with his tongue, a sense of urgency suddenly taking over. They stay connected like that for some time, separating briefly before diving back in again and again.

It’s finally dark out when Phichit reopens his eyes and puts some distance between them. He clears his throat. “Well, that certainly … helped.”

“I’m … glad.” Seung-gil’s usual pale cheeks are tinted pink and his lips are shiny and kiss-swollen. Phichit would love nothing more than to grab his boyfriend and take him to the bedroom to continue down the very promising path they were taking just now, but the untouched gift still sitting between them reminds Phichit of what they are supposed to be doing instead.

He lifts the weirdly-shaped present and says in a low voice, “I hope you like it.” His boyfriend opens it painstakingly slowly and without tearing the paper. One look at the slippers, though, and he immediately takes off the ones on his feet to put the new ones on. He stands and walks a few steps, testing the fit, before coming back to the couch and holding up the T-shirt. He … seems to like Present A? It’s difficult for Phichit to gauge his reaction as his expression remains the same. “Um—”

Phichit’s sentence is interrupted by a swift kiss. “Thank you.”

“So, you like it?”

A nod and a small smile. “A lot.” 

The Thai beams at him before gathering his courage and retrieving the second gift he hid earlier. Seung-gil’s brow furrows again, and the man opens his mouth to protest most probably, but Phichit holds up a hand, effectively silencing him. “I know we said not to go overboard, and I didn’t! This is just a little something extra that I thought would be … a bit more personal, I guess?”

Seung-gil takes the second—third?—gift from Phichit, and even though he stays as silent as before, this time around, once the wrapping paper is gone, he simply sits there while he seems to be taking in the details of the portrait: their expressions are soft as they gaze into each other’s eyes, the closeness of the pose, their blushes ...

Unlike with the previous two, however, Phichit can’t take the long stretch of silence. “Look, I _know_ we said only one gift, and this technically counts as a third but, considering the incredible day you planned for us … even suffering through a two-hour photoshoot in that museum and then going to the cinema, when you _despise_ other people’s incessant whispering and loud munching, and then the necklace—”

“I love you.” The statement is loud and clear, bringing an abrupt end to Phichit’s rambling. His eyes widen. Seung-gil’s posture is visibly tense, and he seems as taken aback by the declaration as Phichit himself. “I’m—”

“I love you, too.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, and when their gazes meet, twin smiles appear on their faces. Instead of meeting in the middle again, though, Phichit climbs onto Seung-gil’s lap, straddling him before claiming his mouth; one hand taking residency in his boyfriend’s luscious black hair while the other gently caresses his jaw to change the angle and deepen the kiss. Seung-gil’s arms wrap around Phichit’s middle just as quickly, pushing the Thai closer against him until they are flush together, the urgency from earlier returning tenfold.

Just as their exchange is becoming a little more desperate, with Seung-gil guiding Phichit’s hips down while pushing his up, a long whine followed by a howl cuts in from the kitchen. Panting, the Thai is about to move away to allow his boyfriend to stand, but Seung-gil’s hands never leave his body as his thumbs caress Phichit’s hip bones.

“Snow?” the Korean asks and, soon enough, Snow jumps into the couch next to them and howls some more. Seung-gil leans back, reluctantly removing one hand from Phichit’s body to pet his needy dog. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” he tells her seriously, only for Snow to tilt her head in confusion.

Phichit laughs and scratches Snow behind her ears. “You know she doesn’t understand, right?”

“She’s still sleeping here,” Seung-gil says with finality, making Phichit laugh even harder.

“Whatever you say, darling.”

* * *

The next day, Phichit wakes up thanks to the sun shining through the curtains again, a heavy arm wrapped around his naked waist, and Snow’s weight at the end of the bed. With a lazy smile, he turns, buries his face against Seung-gil’s chest and drifts off to sleep once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you're curious about what the gifts looked like, here are some pictures:
> 
> \- [Necklace](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/d7/2d/13d72d62c6dcb21b267c2bc90eb77936.jpg)  
> \- [Slippers](https://barkpost.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/husky-slippers.jpg)  
> \- [T-shirt](https://i.etsystatic.com/16507297/r/il/2cfeb2/1410822906/il_794xN.1410822906_38k6.jpg)  
> \- [Schmesa's art](https://schmesa.tumblr.com/post/170599515244/seungchuchu-is-the-only-non-canon-otp-for-me)


End file.
